


All the King's Horses and All the King's Men

by Feelysonheelys



Category: The Aquabats! Super Show!
Genre: Crash McLarson is having a very very bad time, Established Relationship, F/M, Grief/Mourning, I suppose?, In Medias Res, Inconvenient Superpowers, M/M, Or however you tag that, Possible Character Death, Robot Feels, So is everybody else but Crash's Bad Time lends itself to more problems, Superpower Malfunction, The Mom Friend Override, Valiant attempts to solidify Ricky’s characterization, also i tagged jimmyjohns parents as a relationship because they LOVE EACH OTHER a LOT, but it doesn't even come up until much later, robot gore, size shifting, this is a story about them too ya know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2019-09-12 17:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16876920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feelysonheelys/pseuds/Feelysonheelys
Summary: Ralph’s jaw clenched. He squinted, crossing his arms. None of the Aquabats met his stare.“Mister Goodman,” the Commander said quietly, “Jimmy did something. Something brave, and selfless, and...” His voice broke. “...and, and stupid.”'Picking up the pieces' is such an ugly phrase.





	1. Chapter 1

The silence of the morning was unnerving. As a rule, Ralph Goodman enjoyed a peaceful silence when the moment was right, but there was something tense in the air that morning. Something cold. 

There was nothing scientific about a gut feeling. There was nothing quantifiable about a hunch, and certainly no way to test the correlation between morning moodiness and negative events out of his control, much less causation. Maybe if Martha were home, she would talk him out of his funk, but then again, maybe it was just her absence causing the problem anyway. He did get a little jumpy when she went off to the agricultural conferences, but she always enjoyed the weekend and Ralph didn’t do well in crowds or areas with active law enforcement.  

Still, Ralph was hesitant to dismiss the gut feeling. Scientific or not, it paid off to be ready for the unexplainable. 

Sipping his coffee, he glanced out the window. Over the horizon was a massive humanoid shape, one hundred feet tall or so, lumbering down the highway toward the farm. 

The scientist blinked, cleaning off his glasses before opening the window for an unobstructed view. Perhaps this individual had something to do with his uneasy feeling about today. 

Ralph grumbled as he pulled his lab coat on, considering his options. The emergency shotgun was a go-to for intimidation and rural charm, but it was uncertain to do any damage to the behemoth. He didn’t have the time or resources to set up any traps or deploy larger weapons. Perhaps if he could get to the barn, he would have time to assemble a death ray before--

_ Now hang on a second. _

Looking back outside, the giant was closer, but it didn’t seem to be rampaging or moving with any intent to destroy. Instead, it stumbled along with its head hung low, keeping pace behind a familiar black vehicle. Most notably, the giant was wearing a bright blue rashguard that was instantly recognizable. 

Well, shoot. The Aquabats were coming.

“Darn kid needs to call us before showing up for a visit,” he said to no one in particular. James didn’t pick the easiest people to be around, but Ralph would be lying if he claimed not to feel a little brighter at the prospect of seeing his son. Finishing off his coffee, he left the mug in the sink and took a deep breath before heading out to meet them at the barn.

The giant man arrived before the tram had halfway cleared the dirt driveway, cautiously stepping around trees and power lines before settling down in the dirt lot in front of the barn, sending a cloud of dust as he fell into a sitting position.  Ralph coughed and sputtered, covering his mouth and nose with his coat.

“Hey!” he shouted, coughing again upon inhaling the dirt. “Watch it, you big lug!”

The giant man recoiled, blinking in surprise. He leaned forward from his sitting position, crouching down until his elbows rested in the dirt. “Sorry, Jimmy’s Dad.”

Ralph vaguely recalled the man’s voice from his last encounter with his son’s band, but the shaggy beard made it a little harder to recognize the individual. Finally, a name clicked in his head. 

“You’re… Crash, aren’t ya?”

Crash nodded meekly as the Battletram rounded the corner. Yes, that was right. The article clippings he’d saved had made note of Crash McLarson and his emotionally based growing ability. Given his own ongoing research, Ralph had to admit that these mysterious powers interested him. However, it didn’t seem that now was the time to press him about scientific study: the man looked utterly exhausted. Even in his huddled position, his slouch was notable, and his red, puffy eyes… good gravy, was he  _ crying? _

“You walked the whole way here?” Ralph’s tone softened.

“Yeah,” Crash sniffled. “And, uh, ran part of the way. I-I can’t fit in the Battletram anymore.”

Ralph swallowed, feeling put on the spot by his own pity. Martha’s sense of hospitality was in danger of rubbing off on him. “Uh, I could turn on the garden hose if you’d want some water, I guess. After all that way.”

“Please?” 

Good lord, the giant brute had  _ puppy dog eyes _ . Ridiculous. The Battletram was opening its doors by the time Ralph handed the end of the green tube to the giant bassist. 

“Just use the spray nozzle,” he grumbled. “Don’t unscrew it and use the dang thing like a straw. Can’t be good for the plumbing.”

Crash nodded enthusiastically, pinching the handle between his giant fingers and spraying the water into his mouth as his bandmates slowly trickled out of their vehicle. The youngest one was out first; he grimaced when his eyes met Ralph’s and he ducked back in, returning moments later to help the skinny one carry a decently sized plastic crate. The contents rattled when the younger one took the step to the ground, and his mumbled apology seemed more directed to the box than the other person supporting it. Following behind them was the Commander. He was a difficult person to forget, with his goofy mustache and his insistence to yell just about everything the last time they’d met. That made his current appearance all the more jarring. Sure, he still looked goofy as all get out, with his blacked-out tooth and drawn-on facial hair, but something about him seemed smaller. He clutched a similar box to the one carried by his teammates. It seemed a little too large to carry on his own, but he had it in a tight grip. Panic flashed in his eyes when it appeared to slip for a moment, but he quickly raised his knee for support, clinging to it with renewed vigor as though his life depended on it. 

The younger two Aquabats gently set down their load, with their Commander following close behind them. He hesitated before setting his box down, but once it was safe on the ground, he closed the door to his vehicle. 

No one spoke.

Ralph’s jaw clenched. He squinted, crossing his arms. None of the Aquabats met his stare. The skinny one— Eaglebones —wrung his hands. Crash set down the hose and averted his face, lip trembling. 

“Mister Goodman,” the Commander said quietly, “Jimmy did something. Something brave, and selfless, and...”

His voice broke. 

“...and, and stupid.”

Ralph Goodman’s eyes were empty of warmth. 

“Where. is. my. son?” 

The cold silence hung in the air, freezing everything in place. There was no peace in the quiet of the moment.

The Commander took a shaky breath, and when that didn’t change anything, he took another. He bent down and removed the lid from the first box full of crushed, fragmented robot parts.

Ralph was still.

“We gathered everything we could,” Eaglebones said. “We scoured the…”

Eaglebones made eye contact with Ralph and fell silent, gaze falling to the ground.

“Do…” the youngest one squeaked. “Do you think it’s possible to put him back together?” 

Ralph didn’t reply. He stepped forward, dropping to his knees to examine the contents of the open container. He brushed over pieces that were recognizable. A crushed finger. A snapped circuit board. A piece of synthetic skin. 

Ralph Goodman didn’t express his fury. He didn’t scream at the Aquabats for letting this happen. He returned to his house, cold, numb, and quiet.


	2. Chapter 2

In retrospect, the Aquabats were very, very lucky that Martha Goodman had not been home. 

Crash was almost glad he couldn’t go inside. He didn’t like to be around people who were yelling at each other. He’d tried to say hi to Jimmy’s mom when she’d some home later that afternoon, but she just gave him a scary look before storming into the house. He’d leaned down to see if he could figure out anything going on. He couldn’t hear most of it, but when he was close to the house he could hear angry shouting and people hitting walls and tables and stuff. 

He peeked through a window into the kitchen. Mrs. Goodman had the MC Bat Commander’s shirt collar wadded in her fist, spewing furious words in his face while he struggled to hold her off. He moved away from the window before he could be noticed.

It took a few hours for the yelling to stop. 

Crash hadn’t moved too far from the house. He’d considered going for a walk around the farm, but he didn’t want the rest of the Aquabats to have to go look for him if things got bad and they needed to find somewhere else to park for the night. By the time he heard the door slam, he’d been watching the sunset and tracing circles in the dirt driveway with a big stick he’d found over by the firewood shelter. He turned around, expecting to see the Commander or Ricky or Eaglebones, but instead, Mrs. Goodman stomped outside with balled fists, making a beeline for the firewood shelter. 

Crash scooted backward, knowing better than to get in the way of the short, angry woman. She strode purposefully toward the stacks of wood, snatching a thick section of a log and positioning it on a worn stump with a hatchet propped up against it.

Crash flinched as she swung the hatchet down with a shout, cleaving the log clean in half. She pulled the next piece of wood onto the stump, again screaming as she brought the hatchet down to split it. Crash kept his distance as she repeated the process over and over, crying out as she hacked away at the firewood, sometimes splintering a log into tiny unusable pieces when the cut didn’t go down as cleanly as she would have liked. Eventually she faltered on the tenth or eleventh log, leaving the axe stuck, wedged in the cut of wood. She raised the stuck hatchet and slammed it against the stump like a hammer, whacking it several times before chucking it aside altogether and collapsing on the stump. 

The wood landed on the ground beside Crash, where it fell apart into three pieces. He hesitantly lifted the instrument, tiny in his hands, and pushed himself to his feet. It only took a couple of small steps before he was able to kneel down and present it to the despondent woman. 

“Uh,” he whispered, though the softest he could manage was still far louder than intended, “Did you want this back?”

Martha stared up at Crash, brows furrowed and mouth hanging open. Her eyes flickered between the man’s face and the axe, tiny in his giant hand. Her mouth closed, and she slowly moved to take it from his hand.

“You didn’t hit me with it or anything,” Crash assured. “It’s okay.”

She lifted the hatchet and set it down against the stump, then sat down on the ground, leaning against Crash’s hand. She pushed her glasses up as she rubbed her eye with the back of her hand. 

Crash slowly lowered himself into a sitting position, careful not to jostle Mrs. Goodman. 

“My baby’s gone,” she said, breathless.

“I’m sorry,” He whimpered. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I want to hate you,” she sobbed. “Gosh, I want to blame you all so much. And I can’t.”

They sat for a little while, Crash letting her cry and scream into his hand. After her tears started running dry, Crash offered her a finger to steady herself as she got to her feet.

“Thank you,” she spoke barely above a whisper.

Crash gave a small smile and nodded. He took a moment before admitting he couldn’t really hear her too well when she was all small and quiet, but he was pretty sure she’d said thank you.  

It was quiet again for a moment. 

Martha cleared her throat. “So. Um. I think your friend said… you’ve been stuck like this for a little while?”

“Yeah,” Crash nodded. “A couple days. Ever since…”  He bit his lip. “I’ve never been big for this long. I’m kinda scared.”

“How long does it normally last?” 

“Sometimes it’s real quick, like I go back after a minute. Most of the time it’s like, ten minutes or more. An hour at most. I just go back when I feel better.” 

Crash hugged his knees tight into his chest and wiped his nose on his arm. “I don’t know if I’m ever gonna feel better now.”

Martha patted his foot. “Neither do I.” 

“Do you think…” Crash was quiet for a moment. “The Commander said you guys might be able to fix him. Do you think so?”

She inhaled sharply through her nose, sighing out through her mouth. “I don’t know. But we’ll be darned if we don’t try.”

Crash slumped his shoulders, resting his chin atop his knees. His stomach grumbled. “Um…”

Martha blinked. “Do you need something?”

He hugged himself tightly. “Uh, I didn’t really know how to ask… the Commander wanted to, like, see if we could negotiate… he thought maybe we could work on the farm for a while to pay for all this, and maybe…” 

Her face softened. “Oh honey. Have you had  _ anything  _ to eat since the accident?”

His stomach growled as he looked down sheepishly. “Well, uh, Ricky’s been giving me sandwiches sometimes, but we don’t have enough in the fridges to make me a snack and have enough food for everybody else. I know you guys don’t want to help us, a-and you need your giant apples for your business, but I promise I won’t—“ 

“Oh my goodness,” she stepped back. “Oh gosh. You poor thing. They’ve been letting you walk for days like  _ this?” _

“I just wanted Jimmy to get home,” he whined. “I don’t need a whole lot of food like this, but a little food ends up being a whole lot when this happens and I didn’t want them to be worried about me, I j-just w-wanted—!” 

“Oh, hey, hey!” she shouted over the giant’s sobbing. “None of that. We can work out the details later. Let’s get you something to eat, okay?” 

Crash gave a light smile. “Yeah. Okay.”


	3. Chapter 3

  
Given their background, the Aquabats were no strangers to wrangling experimental specimens. At the best of times, they were expected to subdue a confused mutant beast or odd creation and return it to whatever institute was toying with the laws of nature for proper care and inspection.

This was not the best of times. This fell closer into the “cat with two heads” type of scenario of “we don’t care what you do with it, just stop all of this destruction while our lab personnel work on our formal apology to the city.”

This week’s admittedly cool-looking foe was the unstable result of cloning a triceratops by combining its partially constructed genome with that of a rhinoceros. However, the gene-splicing of this Trinoceros had resulted in missing genes for growth inhibition and not going totally berserk, resulting in the massive, rampaging mammal-lizard that Ricky was leading away from the crowded city streets.

And then they were on the outskirts of town, near the rubble of an abandoned parking lot, and the Trinocerous snorted down at them as it reared like a stallion on the concrete cliff above the Aquabats. The Commander barked an order for Jimmy to stun it with his finger missiles to keep it busy. The robot complied, firing a volley of laser beams at the rearing beast’s exposed legs.

Ricky whooped as the monster began to stumble, but Jimmy didn’t seem as gratified. His eyes had that shifting purple overlay that they always got when he had to scan something, but instead of being accompanied by his battle-ready focused face, Jimmy almost looked like he was ready to panic.

The robot turned to Ricky as though he’d noticed the kid staring at his face. He gave a single, authoritative command.

“Ricky, _run_.”

The wild look in Jimmy’s wide eyes was enough to keep Ricky from sticking around to ask where exactly he was supposed to run. As he took off, he heard the familiar sound of Jimmy charging his Electron Pulse attack. It didn’t seem like Jimmy to flip the script on battle tactics, especially without running then by the Commander so that he could pretend to have thought of the idea himself.

Once he was far enough away to be at a good distance, but not so far that he couldn’t be heard with a good yell, he stopped to look back, preparing to holler for instructions.

It had turned out to be the perfect distance to watch everything fall apart.

He could see the moment the Trinocerous lost its footing, flailing its heavy limbs as its wounded leg gave out in the middle of a rearing roar. He watched the monster’s shadow growing as it descended from the drop-off. He almost locked eyes with Jimmy the Robot, attack charged to the fullest the robot’s systems would allow, as he spun around as the last minute, blasting the remaining three Aquabats out from under the monster’s shadow and across the battlefield. He could even see Jimmy’s eyes closing and his shoulders relaxing in the split seconds between the burst that pushed his team mates away and the barely audible crunch that was muffled by the loud, blunt impact of the enormous creature’s body colliding with the ground.

It may be an exaggeration to say that everything in that moment played out in slow motion, but having super speed had that sort of effect on Ricky; it was necessary for him to be able to process things on a basic level as he moved past them. Everything in the mere seconds between Jimmy’s order and the monster’s impact played out too quickly for Ricky to change anything, but all too slow for him to miss a single detail.

For the next couple of minutes, time was made of cold molasses. He watched like a dead fly in amber, unaware of reality as his bandmates groaned and shambled to the realization of what had just transpired. He stared blankly, unaware of feeling as a giant Crash hurled the monster into the sky, and only the massive wail that sounded from the giant’s mouth shocked him back into his senses; he had to think fast, had to act fast, _had to--!_

It was very rare that Ricky physically bolted out of a dream, and even more so that it didn’t result in a minor injury. Super-responsive muscles and a top bunk could occasionally be dangerous in that manner. Thankfully, this time his jumpiness didn’t end in bumping his head on the ceiling of his bunk compartment or ending up on the floor; just a small jolt sending him almost-but-not-quite sitting upright. He came to his senses pretty quickly after that.

There was a split second where he considered climbing down and going to talk to Jimmy about his bad dream, as he tended to do when he had trouble sleeping, but quickly shut the thought down, as:  
He needed to try to get a full night’s sleep and get up bright and early to do work on the farm, so he shouldn’t try to stay up, and  
Jimmy wouldn’t be there.

He stared up at the ceiling of his bunk compartment. He didn’t really need to be counseled through his dream, anyway. They’d been through the whole routine plenty of times: your brain is recalling and reconstructing an important or traumatic thing that happened recently, you’ve probably been thinking about it a lot and trying to process it, I’m here if you want to talk about it, blah blah.

Of course Ricky had been thinking about it a lot. It was all that anyone ever seemed to be thinking about. The Commander was trying to look like he had everything under control until he thought he was alone, Crash was visibly devastated, Bones was being all quiet and jumpy.

Ricky didn’t feel like any of them. He knew that he should be reacting, but he wasn’t. He didn’t think he was feeling numb, either: he just felt like Ricky, ready to wake up early in the morning for a healthy breakfast and a full day of working for Mister Goodman in the orchards while he looked over Jimmy’s parts and figured out the best way to put him back together.

There were little moments of sadness, sure. Times when he would expect Jimmy to be there and be acutely reminded of his absence, thrown off the rhythm of his day. But at the end of the day, that’s all it was: a rhythm. He didn’t think, he just responded to his own pattern. Everyone else was stopping to feel sad, but Ricky didn’t know how to stop moving.

After all, Jimmy would be back with them eventually, right? Mister Goodman was going to fix him, and everything would fall back into place, even if it took a long time.

But then again, Ricky was reminded of the time the robot had sat him down for a long talk after he’d left the group to be with Rachel that one time. He’s already said he was sorry and all that; Rachel Moonbug wasn’t really The One, he’d made a mistake, all that fun stuff. But Jimmy said that wasn’t the real problem, and told Ricky that he needed to think things through before making a big decision. The Aquabats would have been upset if Ricky had left them behind, and they probably wouldn’t have been able to defeat Silver Skull and his team if he hadn’t come back, but what really mattered was that Ricky had run off without a real plan.

“You met Rachel _yesterday_ ,” Jimmy had said. “If you wanted to build a relationship with her, that would have been fine, but making a big, life-changing decision like leaving your home to chase a dream carries a lot of risks. Where would you be sleeping? Could you make enough money drumming at the fair to buy food to keep up your healthy lifestyle, or even enough to live off of? What if she rejected you outright, or if she did love you back but turned out to be a hurtful person?”

“I _said_  I was sorry,” he had grumbled. “I know I was wrong. I didn’t think about that stuff.”

“The Bat Commander needs to think about what kind of example he’s setting. Ricky, I know you enjoy living fast, but everything in life has consequences. Take it from someone who’s been through running away from home: you can’t avoid change. The best you can do is plan for it.”

Planning for change was a lot harder than it sounded. But it was even harder for Ricky to admit to himself that a member of his family might never be coming back.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn’t far from midnight when the Battletram’s door slid open. The Bat Commander stepped out onto the dirt driveway carefully and quietly, eyes  darting across the landscape to be sure the coast was clear.

“They’re both in bed. Mister Goodman went in an hour ago.”

Even though it was whispered, the Commander still jumped at the voice and reflexively shushed the speaker. He looked up at Crash as the giant raised his head off the ground where he lay, curled around the vehicle as though it was a suitably sized replacement for the teddy bear he had left on the tram’s roof. 

“T-thanks, buddy,” the Commander stage-whispered. Crash wouldn’t be able to hear him if he had really whispered, but stealthy is as stealthy does. “Sorry. Your whisper is getting quieter, by the way!”

Crash smiled, unconvinced. “Issat why you almost dropped your flashlight?”

“J-just try and get some rest,” the Commander replied, his tongue tripping up. “You don’t have to stay up for my sake.”

Crash sighed through his nose. “It’s just not comfy out here.”

“Come on, it’s easy,” the Commander yawned through his attempt at a smile. “Y-you can do it in your sleep.”

Crash didn’t respond. He just laid his head back down as the Commander hurried to the barn. 

* * *

 

“Hey, Robot. Sorry I’m a little late tonight. Long day.”

The lights in the barn were all off. Only the Commander’s flashlight, lying sideways on the ground, illuminated the spot on the ground where he sat cross-legged across from a pair of plastic bins. More parts laid on the worktable, but the Commander didn’t want to move any fragile computer chips, so he’d decided that those parts of Jimmy could hear him just as well from the floor.

“I gotta say, I don’t know how you did this kind of farm stuff every day growing up. I mean, I know you don’t get tired the same way, being a robot, but all that harvesting work, and carrying all the containers, remembering where everything goes? It’s tough.”

He almost chuckled. “But then again, you’re pretty tough too, so I bet you didn’t have any trouble at all. You could do all of our jobs for us in half the time.  _ Especially  _ Ricky’s job. You wouldn’t believe how long it takes him to just wash a crate of apples. I mean, that’s what Bones said, anyway. I wasn’t really paying attention. I was, uh, focusing on my own work. I-I’ve been running a little slow lately, you know, getting a little too…” He trailed off for a moment, eyes staring unfocused into the bin of parts. 

He shook himself awake. “Sorry. A little distracted, I guess. But anyway, I did still get some stuff done today! You should have seen me, I was picking apples all morning like some sort of… some sort of apple-picking machine! Err, like you, I guess! But, um, I guess I zoned out a little too much and almost fell off the ladder around lunchtime. It was kind of funny, and I didn’t really get hurt, so it wasn’t that big a deal, but your mom still made me switch jobs after lunch, cutting down some of the big dead bushes and stuff by the garage. She still had the other guys working in the orchards, so, you know. No big loss.”

The Commander rubbed his arm in discomfort.

“It’s neat, spending time with your family and stuff. And weird. Mostly weird. I hardly ever see your dad. Not because I’m avoiding him or anything like that! He’s just super busy, working on you, your bits and all that. I guess I haven’t really been leaving you all alone all day, but I don’t know if your pops is much of a conversationalist. He doesn’t talk to any of us when we see him, anyway.”

“Your mom’s a different story. She’ll talk to us when she has the time, but she doesn’t really have too much time. She’s teaching us all what our jobs are around the farm, and taking calls and doing paperwork about the family business, answering the phone and the door when neighbors are dropping off Get Well casseroles… or… condolences. But either way, it means she doesn’t have to spend a lot of time making dinner for all of us, which is a time saver! Especially with Crash being like he is. Someone brought over a frozen packaged lasagna yesterday, and she heated it up and let him eat the whole thing like a sandwich! Pretty cool, right?”

The Commander’s phony smile cracked. He sighed. 

“I mean, it’s just got me thinking, you know? About you. And like, the way you’re like that. You’re always looking after us, taking care of us. You make smart choices when we’re all being dumb, and you always know what to do when we get hurt… and we don’t really think about it, huh?”

He scooted closer to the boxes, his arms wrapping around himself.

“Do you remember that time when we saved the world, Jimmy? I know it’s really weird and confusing, and I don’t remember all of it all the time, but I remember doing something super cool and heroic at the top of Space Monster M’s mech suit, but then there was just falling and pain and…” 

The Commander stopped to steady his breathing, speaking quieter when he continued. 

“...and you were there. I think you fell too, but you saw me on the ground, so busted up I could hardly move, and you didn’t even stop to see if you were hurt. You just came over and picked me up. That’s the part I remember more than anything. I was hurt so bad, but you helped me stand and walk and held me all the way to the roof of the Battletram. I never thanked you for that. I  _ never _ thank you.”

“I’m telling you, this is gonna change. If-- When you come back, it’s your turn. I’ll sleep in the lab every night to keep you company, even if the cot in there isn’t as comfy as my bunk. Or even better, we can figure out how to set things up for you to charge with us in the bunkroom! Your big fancy charging tube would be too big, but maybe I could help you figure out… I dunno, something else. And none of the other guys will be allowed to complain about it. And we’ll all do stuff you want to do on weekends! We can go to a science museum instead of golfing next time, and Crash and I won’t even touch stuff we aren’t supposed to and get us all kicked out. Or it can even just be the two of us, having a real date night. Just me, you, and like, the big dinosaur bones suspended from the ceiling. I always thought that that would be cool. And romantic.”

He moved his head to rest on the edge of the box. “When you’re up and running again, I’ll make it all up to you. You’re going to be so spoiled. We’re going to buy those fancy batteries you like, and that one brand of steel polish that you think smells good. And I’ll rub it on you  _ myself, _ ” he gave a teasing grin. “You’re not going to have to lift a finger around the Battletram. Heck, I can just return the favor and carry you around. You’re going to say I can’t or shouldn’t, but you won’t be able to stop me from scooping you up b-bridal style and…”

The Commander sat up and pulled away from the box. “L-listen, babe, I should go. B-but not because I want to! I don’t ever want to leave you, homie. But I won’t be able to come back tomorrow unless I get some sleep tonight, and if I got your bits all gunked up with my… my gross tears… well, I’m not gonna do that, so it’s not going to be a problem. Don’t worry, though; the Battletram is right outside, so I’m right next door if you need something. I know you don’t want to be alone right now. I mean, you never do, but this all this stuff going on, it’s too much. But I just want you to know that you’re safe now, alright?”

The contents of the box only shifted slightly when the Bat Commander wrapped his arms around its sides. He kept his face tucked down as he began to mumble a tune. 

 

“Take on the ocean… where we belong, like islands in the sun…”

* * *

 

Thirty minutes before this, not far from the barn, Ralph Goodman had quietly entered his bedroom and nudged his wife.

“Martha.”

“Hhnm.”

_ “Martha.” _

“Get some rest, dear…”

Ralph made a soft grunt of frustration. 

“Listen, this is important. I think I’m finished with damage control of his… of the key computational systems and memory storage. There are a couple small computation parts that can’t be repaired, but…”

Martha’s eyes opened, meeting her husband’s in the gray darkness. After a moment, she nodded, tilting her head forward.

Ralph nodded back.

“Yes?”

He kept nodding. A smile spread across his face.

Martha climbed up into a sitting position. “Yes? Yes?”

Ralph grinned, grabbing his wife’s shoulders and pulling her close. 

“He can be saved,” he whispered. "We can save him."

 


End file.
